


Like Icarus We Fall (In Love)

by aleela



Series: Hands Meet, Light Spills [1]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: (fluff with plot), ........yet, Fluff, I tried to be funny, Kissing, M/M, Unrequited Crush, but not actually unrequited, not sure if it worked, there's a bit of plot i swear, they say dick once, theyre my children so no sex, this is totally different from all my other work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-07 02:37:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18401438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aleela/pseuds/aleela
Summary: Hongjoong has a crush on his best friend, and his gay heart just! can't! take! it!It's all kinds of bizarre, and it's definitely Seonghwa's fault that Hongjoong keeps ruining his shirts by spilling beverages every time he sees him walk shirtless around their apartment.





	Like Icarus We Fall (In Love)

**Author's Note:**

> this started out so angsty and so fucking pretentious and ended up fluffy as heckkkk 
> 
> like park seonghwa has my whole entire heart (shriveled up and dead, but he has it!), and i'm so sad i couldn't go see them on their world tour (hopefully there's more to come), also i only just recently got super obsessed with them lol
> 
> i wrote this in like two hours while i was supposed to be studying for a big big big exam, so if there are any typos or just generally sentences that make no sense, i will probably come back to review it once more some other time, for now i shall go sleep
> 
> thank you for reading, kudos and comments give me life and make me sosososo happy <3
> 
> -ela
> 
> edit: 170519

Hongjoong wished he was as brave as Icarus, flying too close to the sun, feeling the burning heat on his back, but still pushing forward in vain of seeing his lover one last time. To touch what was not his, and was not meant for him, it burned him from the inside out to only the shape vaguely resembling a human in its form, just meat on bones, and skin on meat. A bagful of pure love and adoration.

Living with your best friend, turned love of your life (without said love of his life knowing, of course), was probably pretty close as to how Icarus felt, Hongjoong liked to think.

All the times he saw Seonghwa walk around the apartment shirtless, made his small gay heart skip a beat, avert his eyes as a good Christian boy ought to, and tightly cross his legs.

Seonghwa would smile awkwardly when he’d notice Hongjoong uncomfortably shuffling back towards the open door of his room with a just made cup of tea in his hands, scalding hot (a bit how he felt looking at Seonghwa).

The tea would usually break him from his reverie, seeping down his fingers, leaving sticky residue like melting ice cream in the middle of a hot summer’s day, and he would shake his head like ‘oh, you know I’m clumsy, don’t mind me (don’t look at me, please, my heart can’t take it, I’m going to im _plode_ –)’, and give Seonghwa a tight-lipped smile, clenching his teeth, and slamming the door behind himself.

The days of Seonghwa walking around the apartment half naked increased after, what Hongjoong dubbed, ‘the tea spilling.’ No metaphorical tea, just real actual scalding hot tea down his new Tommy Hilfiger white shirt. It left a blotchy pink stain, he felt like _that_ could be a good metaphor for his life.

_Ruining expensive shirts one by one, because I’m a disaster gay._

In the last few weeks, he rarely ventured out of his room, for fear of seeing more naked loves of his life, and out of embarrassment. He didn’t want to sit awkwardly next to Seonghwa and avoid eye contact. He didn’t know how to handle himself now that he was quite sure he had a huge, massive, _colossal_ crush on his best friend.

“What are you doing?”

Hongjoong let out a shrill sound, probably something more similar to the mating call of orangutans, than to anything a human person (which he definitely was) should be able to produce.

It wasn’t fair that a person could be tall, and silent, and so devastatingly pretty, but there Seonghwa was, in all his glory. The light from the window shedding warm yellow, orange and red rays across his face and shiny hair, making him appear even softer.

 _True, undeniable, boyfriend material._ Hongjoong’s brain declared, unhelpfully.

“Nothing, nothing. What am I doing?” He reached for his tea, cringing at the bitter taste, as he left the Earl Grey tea bag in for too long while writing the essay on the 2nd wave of feminism that was due by midnight, but really just thinking about his unrequited crush and trying not to die.

“Didn’t you say you wanted me to help dye your hair today? Did you get the dye?” Seonghwa asked him, searching the room with his eyes for the tell-tale drug store baggie containing the goodies, and strolling over his bed once he caught sight of it, pulling the hair products out, and examining them one by one.

“You don’t usually use this bleach brand,” Seonghwa said, frowning in confusion down at the box. His bangs were getting longer and they fell into his eyes. He looked devastatingly cute in the oversized t-shirt, which only emphasized the width of his shoulders, and Hongjoong died a bit inside.

“Oh, well… It was on sale, and I just wanted to try it?”

Why did he word it as a question? He sounded awkward even to his own ears. His stupid brain. Stupid, stupid, _stupid_. (He was remained of that scene from the second Harry Potter movie, and was very nearly on the verge of grabbing something heavy to hit himself over the head, not unlike Dobby.)

Seonghwa smiled as if he knew a secret Hongjoong didn’t. His blindingly white, straight teeth, and sharp canines made him want to close his eyes, feeling like he was in the presence of a shining star – his sun, he didn’t feel deserving of Seonghwa’s beauty.

“Let’s go then,” Seonghwa chuckled, stretching out the ‘go’ in the sentence, standing up from the (unmade) bed (he will never wash the sheets upon which Seonghwa sat again – okay, scratch that, that’s gross, Seonghwa would kill him) and bringing the baggie with him, ruffling his hair a bit as he passed behind him and through the door, in search of the old towel and hair dye brush, no doubt.

Seonghwa liked to prepare up front for everything – even if it was as inconsequential as helping Hongjoong dye his hair a neon pink color.

He felt his cheeks heat up at the thought of Seonghwa touching his hair, pulling the strands in between his fingertips, even if his end goal was ruining his hair irrevocably.

But he was soft, and gay, so sue him for feeling the way he was.

He changed from the, newly soiled, shirt to an old Coca-Cola branded one, the one he usually used for hair dying procedures. The one Seonghwa gave him because, after a few months in the gym, it ended up being too small, much to Hongjoong’s chagrin. That was the shirt, and the time of the year, the month, the date, the second his infatuation started.

Okay, so maybe he has been in love with his best friend since they’ve known each other, but that was the moment that it cemented in his brain. _You’re gay! In love with your best friend! Get over it! Accept it!_

And how could he not accept it, with Seonghwa standing in front of shirtless, his abdominal muscles gleaming with sweat, holding out the offending t-shirt with a slight smirk on his face.

Hongjoong slapped himself in the face, “Snap out if it, you idiot! Oh, my god…” He whispered, leaving his room in search of Seonghwa.

 

He found him in the bathroom, reading the bleach instructions, holding them a bit like a person would newspapers in American movies depicting the 70s, or the 80s, or the somethings, and smiling at Hongjoong as he entered, over the rim of the paper.

“Sit, sit!” He indicated with his arm at the closed toilet lid.

Truly the pinnacle of his life as a student (more like, of his life as a whole.)

Sitting on a toilet lid turned with his back to his best friend-turned-crush, as he was about to dye his hair, and feeling to all the hell anxious about it. Because how will he survive the soft touch of Seonghwa’s fingers in his hair and on his shoulders for the next few hours.

He had to remind himself not to bite his fist, just because it would be terribly inconvenient to explain.

Like ‘Oh, hey man, why are you biting your hand?’ and him going ‘I’m just super, very gay for you, my dude, and couldn’t restrain myself from screaming at the thought of you touching me in any way for the next two or so hours, so I had to bite my fingers to shut myself the _fuck_ up.’

Hongjoong turned sharply when he heard a clattering sound behind himself, and saw Seonghwa staring at him with wide eyes and a bit of a crazed and dishevelled look about himself.

At the realization that the conversation was not actually happening only inside his head, he felt a bit like lead suddenly made a little home inside his stomach.

Standing up, in his rush his leg caught on the rug on the bathroom floor, and in an attempt not to let him fall and smash his skull wide open on their pristine white tiles (that Seonghwa just yesterday cleaned, _Jesus, Hongjoong, can’t you be more careful!_ ), Seonghwa grabbed his shoulders.

It did not go well. _Well it kind of did_ – his brain supplied.

But no, it did not go well, because now they were both on the floor. Hongjoong’s mouth dangerously close to the underside of the toilet (gross), and with an armful of Seonghwa, lying uncomfortably across his legs and torso (a lot less gross), huffing a laugh right into his neck and tickling the skin there, his long pretty fingers somehow in the position of cradling Hongjoong’s skull.

“Well this is not going the way I wanted it to go,” Seonghwa said, scrambling to get up and onto his knees, but only managing to end up on all fours above Hongjoong’s body, and his brain officially short circuited.

“What – what is not going the way…?” Hongjoong struggled to get the sentence out, feeling the panic of outing himself to the one person he was not supposed to out himself to. (He had no qualms that the thirst for his best friend would ever reach the said best friend.)

“I, uhh…” Seonghwa tried, distractedly. Hongjoong could not tell what Seonghwa was thinking, because of the simple fact that he was resolutely looking anywhere but at Seonghwa’s face, out of fear of rejection or just plain embarrassment, _who knew_.

He himself wasn’t sure, but he knew one thing, and that was that no platonic, bro-friends, _best friends_ would ever be in this position for so long. And that made him look up and into Seonghwa’s eyes and he immediately regretted the decision to do so, once he noticed how close their faces were together. Almost nose to nose, and his own eyes went a little cross-eyed as well.

He felt rather than saw, Seonghwa slowly inching his face closer to his, their noses bumping, and he said the only thing that came to his mind: “Please don’t let our first kiss be on the bathroom floor.” Closing his eyes, he felt Seonghwa shake with laughter.

“Yeah, well, too bad,” Seonghwa whispered, “I’m kissing you now,” and closed the gap. Connecting their mouths in a sweet, if a little wet, kiss.

He felt him smile against his closed mouth, and sucked gently on Seonghwa’s bottom lip, biting it in retaliation. The lead that was in Hongjoong’s stomach made way for various species of insects, mainly butterflies, batting their wings in glee deep inside his gut.

The laugh bubbled up all at once, and made them break apart. Hongjoong was snorting unattractively a few minutes later, thinking about the fact that he was really on the cramped bathroom floor (he couldn’t believe Seonghwa would sit, let alone kiss him there, and yet he did –), kissing ~~the love of~~ his ~~life~~ best friend.

Seonghwa leaned his forehead against Hongjoong’s clavicle, kissing the skin he found there, the strands oh his natural black hair tickling his cheek.

Hongjoong had a sudden thought that he was allowed to touch now, to feel the softness of his hair, to see it break apart like obsidian in his hands. Before he could move his hands that were reaching a few centimeters below the curve of Seonghwa’s butt, on his thigh ( _how did they get there? How did he not notice he was touching his thigh –_ ), Seonghwa was raising up to stand above him, and pushing out a hand to pull Hongjoong up with him.

The pulling force (Seonghwa really was spending too much time in the gym now, they’ll have to talk about it, Hongjoong will need more coddling and cuddling and kisses), brought him right into Seonghwa’s arms again and they smiled softly, shyly at one another. Hongjoong’s heart could burst from happiness.

“Rain check on the hair dyeing?” Seonghwa asked, threading their fingers together, and pulling Hongjoong in the direction of the living room couch.

“Absolutely.” Hongjoong nodded his head seriously. “We should make out instead.” He said, and Seonghwa looked at him over his shoulder, and if he were wearing glasses, he would probably have them so low on his nose, he would be looking at Hongjoong over them, like a naughty teacher…

“Now that we violated the bathroom carpet, you should suck my dick in the kitchen,” the line was said with absolutely no emotion is Seonghwa’s voice or on his face, and Hongjoong could feel himself redden from the tips of his ears, all the way down his neck.

As Seonghwa caught the star-struck look on his face, he smiled bashfully, “Kisses will do for now.”

“For now,” murmured Hongjoong, letting Seonghwa pull him into his lap and kiss him softly on the cheek, nestling him into his arms with a promise of more to come.


End file.
